


Scattered Ripples

by kazumi123



Category: Naruto
Genre: Also might give you feels, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Ending, Because people don't seem to catch my sarcasm, Canon Uchiha Obito, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Uchiha Obito, Hey look the author DOES have the ability to not write smut all the time, I mean, M/M, Oops, SO MUCH FLUFF, This is totally a happy story guys, and so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 00:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15785334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazumi123/pseuds/kazumi123
Summary: Obito used Kamui and somehow landed in a dimension where he did not betray everything that he stood for, and that the alternate him and Kakashi are closer than what he could have imagined......This world is a fake, and everything is futile.





	Scattered Ripples

**Author's Note:**

> Random plot bunny attack in the middle of the night. Thankfully, I didn't die. Though, please enjoy nonetheless this fic that was supposed to be short but somehow turned very long.

"Love and Hate are such strong words; They also cause so much pain."

-xxx-

 

Obito blinked as instead of meeting with the familiar sight of the dark underground cavern, the one that stored the Gedo Mazou statue while being guarded by hundreds of white Zetsus, he was greeted with bursts of bright sunlight, the soft caress of the wind billowing his cloak and the simultaneous rustling of overhead leaves. Birds sang sweetly, wings flapping as they flew around in the bright azure sky.

His instincts flaring at being caught unaware in an unknown territory, Obito automatically activated his prized technique, burying himself in Kamui as he cautiously moved around the area, scanning for threats and clues as to his whereabout. His ears prickled at the sound of life nearby, people bustling about. Concluding that he must be near a particularly large village, he followed the trail, carefully avoiding any sharp branches or thorns that may scrap his uniform and give him away. This particular aspect of Kamui enabled him to conceal himself by deflecting the light from his form, rendering him invisible, but even though he could not be seen, he was not entirely dematerialised, so he could still be touched. The sounds grew closer and louder. After passing through a particularly thick thicket, the presumably-dead Uchiha sucked in a breath, momentarily forgetting his training as he was caught off guard.

_Konoha._

Obito turned away, scowling.

This was very unexpected. Just a few minutes ago, he was quite literally on the opposite side of the map, far away from the likes of Fire Country, prowling deep in the vast, frosted forest of Iron Country. He was in the process of cleaning himself up after a gruesome, one-sided massacre against a group of Mist mercenaries, who were carrying a rather precious scroll containing an antique seal that once belonged to the fallen Uzumaki clan. Deeming that the seal would proved to be useful to their cause, as well as stir up the relationship between Kiri and Iron in one go, Zetsu had instructed him to play fetch, much to his displeasure. Though the retrieval was successful (of course it did, he would _not_ fail again, not ever, not in anything anymore), Obito had wanted to return to the den to chuck the scroll at Zetsu before returning to Mist to observe his puppet’s wellbeing. He hasn’t felt any strenuous strain in his chakra at being teleported so far off, and that made him suspicious. There was though a slight pull in his Sharingan, but that always happened when he was near Kakashi, and given that he was in the village, this was of no concern to him.

The Uchiha observed the godforsaken village down below with irritation. He has emerged from the undergrowth of natural cover located on top of the Hokage Monument, so he now has currently a bird’s eye view of the place. He must admit; the place brought a sense of nostalgia to him, one that coiled deeply in the pit of his chest. But along that feeling came the surge of hatred and detestation, at this cursed village, to the ignorant people, its games and its lies, and the shinobi system that deceived its child soldiers with promises of honour and glory, only to be met with death and false consolations.

The Uchiha clenched his fists.

_He will change this absurd system and this false reality._

Still cloaked in the cover of his technique, Obito stalked towards the Hokage building as he bit down his anger. He would have teleported away from this place, but there was insistent nagging feeling at the back of his mind, one that made him note that the air was somehow different and that something was terribly amiss. While spying on Kakashi at the Memorial Stone was a beneficial way to obtain information, sometimes you have to go straight to the source to get what you need faster and the Hokage was the person Obito required right now to fulfil that role.

 

-xxx-

 

Landing quietly on a tree branch that fairly granted him an appropriate view of the Hokage office, Obito channelled his chakra discreetly to his ears, careful not to give away his position to any patrolling Anbu members in the vicinity. He sneaked a glance into the room; all he could see from his current position was the back of the chair and the various paperwork scattered around the table, and not any of the occupants. It was good enough for Obito though; he only wanted brief info to placate himself of any current events. Going any nearer would risked him to be detected by any sensor-type Anbu or even the Hokage herself, and the last thing the Uchiha wanted right now was a fight. Concentrating, he eavesdropped in the conversation that was going on in the office.

What he heard though, made him almost fell face-first to the ground.

“---suppose you should go tell him.” A masculine voice, melodious and smooth, chimed, sounding very amused at whoever was talking to him. This was _definitely_ not Tsunade, but it was not the fact that it was not her in the seat that rattled him.

_It was the fact that the voice sounded so familiar, gentle but stern, guiding but authoritative, a family but also a **stranger**.  A voice of an old friend. _

Namikaze Minato laughed, and it sounded like a tinkle of a windchime swaying in the summer wind.

“Goodluck then.” He said, and Obito was too distracted by the rush of blood pounding in his ears to notice the other occupant in the room’s reply. He leaned back, feeling the beginning of a devastating headache forming in his head, one that would be even worse than the time the White Zetsus bothered him about a human’s bodily functions in that dark old cave with Madara. He carefully reigned in his fluctuating chakra as he gathered his thoughts.

Minato…no, the Fourth…is alive?

Either he had accidentally casted Infinite Tsukiyomi upon himself (which is very unlikely, he wasn’t that stupid…not anymore), or someone very proficient in genjutsu has managed to fire off a very high-level illusion strong enough to bypass the Sharingan itself (again, unlikely, there were only a handful of shinobi throughout history capable of doing that, and all of them was dead). So what? An alternate dimension then? A different timeline? But what has caused his Kamui, a space-time technique, to derail from his original focal point in the dimension connections? The weight in his back pouch drew his attention, and he internally groaned. Leave it to the Uzumaki, alive or dead, to make his life miserable.

A loud screech drew his attention, and he directed his gaze to the entrance, where a moron was making exaggerated movements, spinning around on his toes as he waved his hands about with extreme exuberance. The Uchiha snorted; he couldn’t see the idiot’s face, as the other was now slouched over, face away from him while running his hands through his dark hair in frantic motions. But judging by the jounin flak jacket he was wearing, he was apparently a quite capable shinobi. Konoha must have really lowered the passing grade though, to let such person reach high rank. Showing his emotions so openly like this, it was a wonder how he hadn’t gotten kill yet, especially with those vocal chords.

Deeming it was prime time to go and consider his options, the Uchiha was just about to quietly sneak away (he has what he needed, there was no use staying around any longer. Plus, looking at Minato’s golden locks was making him feel violently ill), when fate decided to screw him for the second time that day. Obito stilled, eyes wide behind his mask as the jounin finally turned around. His gaze was met with a _very_ familiar face, one that haunted him every morning when he looked into the dirty mirror of his makeshift room; a dark onyx eye hinting a pool of scarlet, deep cresses of scars running down the right of his tan face, framed by a wry nest cropped, jet black hair.  It was a face that he very much hated.

It was the face of Uchiha Obito.

(Except he’s not him, not for a long time. He was Madara now).

The other Obito grinned, a sight now so foreign, the wayward Uchiha thought, stretching his arms high above his head before placing them on his hips. He donned the usual Konoha Jounin attire, with his headband slanted over his left eye. “Yosh!” He said, in a voice that doesn’t sound as rough and bitter as his own, a voice that wasn’t deep and falsified and a mockery of a powerful man long dead ago. It was his own, true and firm, as if untouched by the cruel reality of this world. The Konoha shinobi then ran off in a hurry, his pace excited and joyful as if he was almost bursting with excitement. In his haste, he almost ran into his fellows, to which he apologised profusely as the others looked on with fond anger, before he hurried away. He acted like an inexperienced child, still fond of this world, despite he was clearly an adult that has seen countless battles, merciless ones, the scars on his face was proved of one of those battles.

Obito --no, no, he would rather associate himself as Tobi, as that was his current persona, a member of the atrocious Akatsuki, and not Obito, because Uchiha Obito was dead, and the one who was in front of him was a fake, fake, fake imposter that somehow still trusted this wayward system.

Tobi sneered viciously underneath his mask, his control waning. But once more, he reigned it in. He would deal with getting back to his own proper dimension _after_ he would see how the fake fared as being a good little soldier to the village, and maybe afterwards he would deal with this pathetic little village and its leader (always late, so fast, the Yellow Flash they say, but always too late to save his students) in a  _very_ destructive way as to…ah, release some pent-up tension.

After all, this alternate world would not impact his plans in the slightest.

Casting a last glance at the alive Hokage behind him before jumping, Tobi followed his other self, his mind reeling.

 

-xxx-

 

Even without the throbbing in his eye, Tobi could clearly sense the person his alternate self was dashing towards to like a honing missile even before he could see the spikes of silver hair as hidden as they were behind the mountain of books and scrolls that its owner was carrying.

Apparently his other, stupid self, despite the speed he was running with, could as well, for he chirped, “Kakashi!”, his taller figure darting from the street to around the Hatake like an overzealous dog even as the other struggled to maintain his delicate balance. A thick book located at the very top of pile almost dangerously fell off before the jounin leaned to the right, retaining balance.

“Why, yes, hello,” the silver-haired jounin sounded completely exasperated at the other, but when he shifted a bit, revealing his face from behind his gratuitous load, he was smiling. Or so Tobi assumed judging by the crinkle of his dark mask. Even after all these years of stalking, he could not fully decipher the other’s emotions, as rare as they were shown. This alternate Kakashi though, seemed to be no different than the original one. He was still donning the same outfit, flak jacket and all. “I don’t suppose you can stop running laps around me now? Any faster and you would create a new space-time technique, and I don’t really fancy having you teleporting into my bathtub again.” His only grey eye twinkled with amusement as the other groaned, finally stopping his energetic motion.

“I thought I told you to never bring it up again!” The fake threw his arms up in frustration.

Kakashi chuckled, before raising an eyebrow at the other, presenting the heavy pile in his arms towards the dark-haired jounin. “A little assistance right now would help take my mind off from bringing up more embarrassing stories about you.” He drawled with mischief, and Obito groaned softly, clearly used to such demands, before helping in a clear-Uchiha style by whisking them all away into the Kamui dimension. Tobi twitched at the disrespectful use of the technique.

The Hatake observed the other’s lack of argument of being used as an imaginative pack mule. “You seem to be in a happy mood.” He said, almost suspiciously. He gave the other a once over, as if he could see if he was carrying any odd with him that may contribute to his apparently odd behaviour.

At that, the Uchiha grinned widely, wrapping an arm around his companion’s shoulders. “Why, yes, actually, I have great news!” He exclaimed happily, and, ignoring the other’s squirming, pulled the other along with him as they walked away from the entrance of the library. “But let’s get to somewhere quiet first, no one knows this yet.”

“Oh? And I get the honour of finding out first? Obito, I’m flattered.” The silver-haired man made a show of swooning in the other’s arm, battling his eyelashes. The villagers around them threw amused glances at the display but continued their various activities. This must be a constant occurrence to them.

How shameful, Tobi thought, for shinobi to act this way.

The dark-haired jounin laughed, pushing at the other’s head. “Asshole,” he said, with a tone that Tobi could not quite place. It sounded almost like the tone that Namikaze always used when Uzumaki did something mischievous, like coloring his hair magenta pink in his sleep that one time, when one showed exasperation yet deep warmth and affection, like they wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. To think a miracle would have happened for the two of them, who used to argue like cats and dogs every single day during their youth.

The Hatake hummed. “But you love me anyway.” He patted the other on the cheek as he walked slowly ahead, his gaze directed at the glass showcase of the bookstore. Tobi tried to not let the comment and that action get to him as he peeked closer from his position on the rooftop to see what got the Hatake excited about, and barely managed not to roll his eyes as he saw a familiar orange-coloured book being showcased on the stand. Typical.

The Uchiha jounin grabbed the other’s arm before he went inside. “Oh no you don’t.” He warned, and, as he ignored the other’s sad expression, in reminiscence of a kicked puppy, pulled the other along the busy street until they reached the end of the junction that lead to the cemetery and Training Ground Zero. The crowd of civilians has thinned out as they entered “Shinobi Territory”, with only the two them still latched together side-by-side like a pair of leeches. If the fake wanted to talk, he found a calm place to do it.

“So, what’s so important that you have to drag me away?” Kakashi asked, clearly still pouting from being denied of his romance books.

Obito twirled Kakashi around rather stupidly, a giant grin plastered to his scarred face as he placed both hands on the Hatake’s shoulders. “Kakashi…” He started slowly, almost seriously albeit his big goofy smile, to which the other amusedly raised an eyebrow at. Tobi leaned forward in a bored fashion, still cloaked in his technique. Judging from the idiot, it was probably something small and insignificant; he’d always have a habit of exaggerating things—

“Minato-sensei’s officially declaring me as his successor.”

\--and he saw red. His artificial palm bleed white ichor when he gripped his fist too hard. He stared down blankly at the oozing liquid before wiping it on the helm of his sleeve. It was fortunate that the flesh held no scent; he didn’t want to alert the Hatake’s sensitive nose of his presence before he could witness the end of this _wonderful_ exchange, as painful as it was to see his fake, stupid self  preening about a position that ultimately was useless in the grand scheme of things.

Didn’t, couldn’t change anything. Civilians still die, most of the time forgotten, in vain, whilst children were still groomed and sacrificed for the sake of _honour._ Nothing has changed. _Nothing will change._

All that would be is hopelessness. Only the Mugen Tsukiyomi would bring equal, ultimate happiness to everyone.

There was a momentarily silence that befell the duo as Kakashi stared at the grinning face of his ex-teammate in shock, his grey eye wide. “W-when?” He croaked out, still in stupor from the news.

Obito let him go, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He ruffled his dark locks with a hand, seemingly embarrassed. “Next week. My…inauguration is on Sunday.”

A pale hand reached out and cupped the scarred side of the Uchiha’s face, pulling his head until a lone grey eye met a dark scarlet. The Hatake cocked his head, a tender expression on his masked face, his visible eye brimming with such softness that it was unbecoming of a shinobi. Look at him, his younger self would have thrown a fit to see such public display of emotions. Oh how much seem to have changed, especially in this weird alternate timeline. “Obito…that’s wonderful news. Congratulations.” He traced the scars on his palm softly, to which the other responded by grabbing his companion’s hand, pressing it closer to his cheek. He closed his eye, as if to savour the tender moment even as he nuzzled the comforting appendage.

“I…” He paused, shakily inhaling. “I did it.” The dark-haired man breathed, his usual loud, gratuitous voice now a mere whisper. As if he himself could not believe the news despite that he was positively brimming with joy earlier.

The Hatake then surprised the masked man by pulling the other into a hug, tucking his face underneath the Uchiha’s chin as they pressed close to one another, slender arms wrapping themselves around a muscular torso. “Yeah…you did.” He hummed, voice muffled by the thick material of the flak jacket.

“I…do you think I’ll do good?”

“You’ll be the greatest. The best one this village will ever see.” A laugh. The dark-haired jounin returned the embrace, nosing his face into wild silver hair.

“Even better than sensei?” The Uchiha joked.

“Hmm…don’t tell him that.” Kakashi chuckled softly, making a move to pull away from his spot on the other’s chest. The Uchiha let him, albeit reluctantly, gloved hands still gripping the silver-haired jounin’s hips. He looked at the Hatake with a gentle beam, before casting his gaze to the side, his eyes suddenly narrowed with apprehension.

“Bakakashi …what if I mess up? W…what if I make a mistake that I can’t undo? What if…. what if I won’t change anything? And somehow, I make everything _worse-_ ” His short, desperate ramble was interrupted as the silver-haired man caught his attention by placing a palm on his scarred cheek once more, thumbing the rough skin with soft, gentle caresses. It seemed to calm the other down, as he looked into the other’s gaze with a rather anxious expression.

“You won’t.” The Hatake said adamantly, his eye steeling with seriousness. “Because you have me to help you. As well as your comrades; Gai, Asuma, Kurenai…they believe in you, and they trust you to build a better future for the next generation, for children to grow up in time of peace instead of war. So that they would not know suffering such as we did…to know the pain of losing a friend.” His grey eye softened, but unrelenting as he looked at the man with extreme devotion. “We’ll do this…together. You won’t be alone anymore, Obito.”

 _You won’t be alone anymore._ Those words should be insignificant, unimportant…but the way Kakashi said them, struck a chord inside of him, and he felt a pang of _something_ twisting in his empty heart. The sentence rang and echoed in his mind, unrelenting as he wondered…just wondered…if somehow, things could have been different on that fateful day. At that thought, a vicious voice snarled deeply in the cresses of his mind, stamping down on the senseless daydream. **_‘Futile, hopeless, meaningless…’_** it screamed, and his heart clenched.

“Thank you, Kakashi.”

Tobi looked just in time to see the man that he could have become tugged the Hatake towards him suddenly, making the other yelp at the abrupt motion, and with a very unexpected move that nearly had Tobi cursed and stomped off (in rage? Disbelief? Or something else?), pulled the edge of the other’s mask down with his teeth (revealing a pale, handsome, _pretty_ face that Tobi haven’t seen in years, a stark contrast to the youthful one he was familiar with during his adolescence, now aged finely with maturity) before pressing his scarred lips against pink ones.

Fate really has it out for him, uh? The Akatsuki member turned away, unable to see the display. Ignoring Kakashi’s giggles and yelps (“Obito, you dolt, is this the reason why you dragged me so far off-? _Hey, that tickles!_ ”) and the other’s playful yet _possessive_ growls, he moved his orange mask to the side to run a palm over his tired visage, feeling the hideous scars that harbour his face (why…why do the Hatake seem to love touching them?) as he sighed wearily, his emotional capacity reaching its limit.

To think that he and Kakashi….no, _Obito_ and Kakashi could have reached this far along in their relationship. Oh, the irony, from the countless screaming matches that they had to playing tongue tennis with each other. It seems that their fate was forever doomed to be intertwine, whether as comrades or as enemies (“You…who are you?” Kakashi has asked him, sharingan eye to sharingan eye as Tobi swirled away into the nether void to reach Sasuke. How hopeful yet afraid that tone was). Though, it hasn’t exactly come as a total surprise, the whole time he was observing them, Obito was looking at Kakashi like a demented love-sick puppy, his gaze passionate and his demeanour protective. Like he has something precious to shield with every inch of his life. Tobi was no fool, he knew that gaze like the back of his hand, for that was exactly how he used to look at Nohara Rin, with wanting and passion, before everting went to hell and nothing mattered anymore.

‘ _You…’_ the wayward Uchiha thought, looking at _him_ , with wonder yet with resentment. ‘ _How can you move on from that? How…how can you find **happiness** in this hell?”_

The dark-haired Konoha jounin was laughing loudly, as he twirled the other shinobi in his arms, his countenance positively _happy_. The Hatake shouted and squirmed at the bold touch, demanding him to be let down with a sharp elbow to the Uchiha’s thick skull. Pouting, the other did so, but he kept his face buried in the other’s shoulder, his fingers tracing unknown patterns on the back of his flak jacket. Kakashi took the time to readjust his mask, his movement awkward due to his arms being encased by a human leech.

Though muffled, he could hear a, “…hey, can you make dinner tonight?”

Throwing the other a very _unimpressed_ look, the Hatake was clearly about to retort something snappy before Obito said quickly, pulling away slightly to reveal a pitiful pouting expression, “I mean, this is a joyous occasion, right? And while we could go to a restaurant…I would rather…well, I _like_ your cooking, and trust me, nobody cooks better than you, Bakakashi.” His face degraded to sad, puppy look, his lips trembling. “Please?”

Shoulders slumping, the Hatake rolled his eye, muttering, “…Fine.” But even as he turned away, a smile formed on his covered lips as he heard an excited “Yes!” behind him, before the Uchiha scurried to his side, plastering himself to him again. From his perch, Tobi watched quietly as the mismatched duo slowly sauntered off, their voices growing more and more distant as he made no move to follow. As he activated his technique, Kamui swallowing him in its field, he heard the last bits of conversation.

“We need to get groceries first though.”

“…Can we have homemade dango as well?” The sound of a punch and a yelp before Tobi fully teleported away.

 

-xxx-

 

Tobi couldn’t quite understand himself, he was gaining no benefits from this observation, except feeling of confusion and dare he say it, _yearning,_ but after several hours of rampaging in the vast darkness of his realm, releasing his pent-up emotions by destroying several of the greyish blocks, he swirled back into reality, which, unfortunately remained the same, alternate one in which Uchiha Obito and Hatake Kakashi were _fucking._

Finding them again proved to be an easy task, he followed the familiar trail of Kakashi’s chakra signature (white, warm, electrifying), and arrived at a modestly-sized house located in the near outskirts of the village. Utilising his very useful technique, he slipped through the wooden walls, and silently entered the conjoined living room with the kitchen, which smelled _heavenly_ of warm miso soup, grilled fish and cooking rice. Peeking around the corner, he saw Kakashi at the counter, his headband gone as he let silvery strands frame his face, wearing a crisp white apron as he chopped away at the onions and carrots while a big pot of something boiling slowly on the stove next to him. It was…such a domestic image, one that before this, he couldn’t imagine Kakashi being in.

Retreating further along the walls, the masked man barely has enough time to conceal himself before Obito slammed through the front door unannounced, panting slightly.

“You’re here early.” The Hatake said, his tone one of wonder, walking into the room while wiping his hands on his apron. He appraised the other with a raised eyebrow, who was still wearing his jounin shirt and tilted headband albeit the usual protective jacket. “Who are you and what have you done with Obito?” A devilish grin when the Uchiha wailed with mock anger.

“Excuse me! I can be early when I want to!” He snapped, before with a blink, he sheepishly looked away, blushing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I…this is a very special occasion you know? Of course, I have to be early.” He said with a hint of embarrassment.

The Hatake merely looked at the other with slight confusion. “It’s just dinner though…” With a shrug, he returned to his task, checking the content of the pot with a satisfied hum and the cooking pot where a burst of steam burst upwards when the lid was opened. While he was throwing the chopped vegetables into the pot, he regarded the other over his shoulder. “Well, you’re _too_ early now, dinner won’t be for a while.”

Obito clambered towards the other, placing his chin on a shoulder as he wrapped his arms around a flat stomach. “It’s okay. I can wait.” He murmured. Kakashi patted the other on a cheek dismissively, still looking over his dishes.

“Well, can you please wait somewhere else? Because you’re kind of distracting me.”

A sigh, “Fine.” The Uchiha ambled off to sit on the couch, where he lounged for roughly 10 minutes, relaxing as he listened to the comforting sounds of Kakashi moving around in the kitchen before he abruptly sat upright as if he got zapped by electricity, his eye wide. He began to frantically pat his pockets, sweating when he seemingly did not find what he was looking for in his pouches.

“Uh…Kakashi?” He called out with a nervous laugh.

“Hmm?”

“I…uh…kind of forgot something _veryyy_ important that I have to do. Like right now.” Kakashi poked his head from the kitchen to see the other jounin inching very slowly towards the entrance, a twitchy smile on his face as he held up his hands. “Oh, it would just take a minute. N-Nothing life-threatening or any of that!” He let out an unconvincing chuckle, still grinning. “I’ll be back before you know it! So, see you in a bit!” Before the silver-haired jounin could get a word in, the future Hokage scampered off, literally leaving a trail of dust behind him. The door creaked shut, and Kakashi sighed, shaking his head.

“Honestly, that guy…” He murmured, and Tobi watched from the shadows as he returned to the kitchen, the clinking and clank of pans filling in the silence. After a while, Kakashi began to hum, a soft, melodious melody. It reminded Tobi of the time that his grandma used to sing to him, a song that tell of a story about the moon and the sun, a tale of foretold tragedy and heartbreak. How they chased each other, the moon longing for the warm light whilst the sun of the soothing darkness, despite the obvious futility. Ultimately, the Sun perished, and the lunar wept for all eternity for the light that never was. He listened, and listened, for the happy ending that never came.

Because there was no happy ending.

Before he realised it, Tobi was standing behind Kakashi, marvelling at the colour of those silvery strands that glittered in the sunlight. He observed the way he moved, free and unburdened, unlike the Kakashi he has always known, who spent countless hours talking to ghosts that never response, his head bowed, and shoulders slumped as he mourned for the dead and the living. This Kakashi has never experienced that, as the presence of Obito anchored him to life while he, himself released the Uchiha from his chains. This Kakashi got to reveal his feelings to Obito, got to embrace the Uchiha as a comrade, a _lover_ , while the other him is fated to fight a dead teammate as a sworn enemy of mankind, for the sake of _peace._

“Obito?” Tobi’s breath hitched as that smothering grey eye turned to look at him, and with a jolt, he realised that he has released his camouflage technique. _Kakashi could see him,_ he thought with alarm, yet his joints were locked in place as the Hatake (fakefakefakejustliketherestofthem) approached him with his head tilted slightly.

“I almost didn’t notice you. You were so quiet.” Kakashi said, and he looked at the Akatsuki cloak with amusement in his eye. “Is this what was so important that you have to leave? A wardrobe change? Where did you even get that?” He laughed softly, and it was a beautiful sound. Tobi stand transfixed as that tender, passionate gaze regarded him with all its focus, as if he was someone precious and important. It was a heady, strange feeling, one that he has never felt before, even before his death. His heart clenched tightly, and his chest felt clogged, as if he suddenly swallowed a bunch of flowers at once. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breath.

 _‘Stop looking at me like that.’_ He thought in panic. He didn't deserve to be look at like that. (TraitorMurdererKiller)

But the other didn’t look away.

At Tobi’s silence, the Hatake’s smile faded away, replaced with a worried frown. “Hey…are you okay? You’re awfully silent…Are you sick?” He reached out a pale, uncovered hand towards him, as if to check his temperature. He still couldn’t move, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. Tobi felt warmth as he felt a wonderfully warm palm cupped his scarred cheek, and the prickly feeling in his chest intensified at the touch. It took him every ounce of control that he had not to lean into the foreign touch, his wide crimson eye meeting that of a concerned grey. It looked like a deep pool of emotions, all of them directed at him, and Tobi found himself drowning in them.

_It was too much._

The monster in his head roared viciously. The pain in his chest bloomed.

 _Fake fake fake fakefakefake-!_ _None of this is real!_

Kakashi gasped in pain, and in shock, as a wooden lance sprouted abruptly from Tobi’s right hand, impaling his chest until it went straight through. He jerked forward, blood dripping from his lips, as the force from the attack left him hanging slightly in the air, his toes barely scrapping the floor. He tried to move away, but the Akatsuki member had directly caught him in his heart, and every bit of movement brought him extreme agony, and he stilled, coughing out rivers of red fluid.

He sluggishly brought his gaze from the spear in his chest to Tobi’s wildly spinning Mangenkyo Sharingan, his eye lidded and already clouded over. His fingers grazed the scars on the other’s cheek lightly, tenderly, his energy quickly draining away with every shuddering breaths he took.

“O…Obi…to…” With his last dying breath, Kakashi murmured his companion’s name almost lovingly before his hand felt limply to his side and that suffocating eye finally slipped close, and Tobi gritted his teeth, a furious snarl caught in his throat. He retracted his make-shift weapon and watched as the Hatake’s body fell brokenly to the floor, his blood pooling around him to stain everything a deep, bloody red. Silver turned bright crimson, like a blooming flower and it was such a pretty sight that had Tobi grinned widely like a madman.

Kakashi's complete trust in Obito has brought him his demise.  _Fool._

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the corpse, at that pale visage and those limp fingers, the blood already reaching to soak his sandal-covered feet, but the click of a door opening told him that he was watching for _quite a while._

Tobi turned his head slightly, watching blankly as the dark-haired man that have the same, hated face as him stumbled into the room, rubbing his head in an apologetic manner as he rambled, “Sorry I took so long, I could have finish faster but there was-“ He stopped as he finally realised that something was terribly wrong. He froze when he took in the unwanted presence in the house, his eye blown wide with shock at seeing a reflection of his own standing directly across him, albeit in another clothing. But that surprise quickly turned into disbelief and pure, unadulterated rage when he noticed his lover lying on the floor in a pool of blood behind the smirking doppelganger, and he snarled rabidly like a wild animal.  

**_“Fire Release: Blast Wave Wild Dance!”_ **

An explosion of heat, chakra and force, and Tobi leapt away in the safety of his Kamui as parts of the walls and the ceilings were blasted away by the technique, whereas the whole rooftop of the house was disintegrated by the bellows of the dancing flames. Thick smoke flowed towards the evening sky from the decimation, as pillars of fire strayed dangerously around the neighbourhood. There were alarmed shouts as the shinobis in the village were alerted by the use of such destructive jutsu inside the gates, and Tobi could see from his position of the opposite rooftop of where he had landed that several ninja were already heading this way. Not that it mattered.

His gaze flickered to the heavily-panting shinobi that was murderously glaring at him from below in the carnage, his figure tensed and brimming with eruptive chakra. He looked like he was about to jump, to engage combat, but then he seemingly remembered his lover, for he turned around in a hurried motion, knees hitting the floor as he knelt next to the body, unbothered by the pool of blood. His hands searched desperately for any sign of life, one that would show that the Hatake was still breathing, was still alive despite the hole in his chest. He found none.

Obito let out a heart-wrenching cry, and his hands, stained red by the blood of his partner, gripped the cold, stiff shoulders in desperation as he buried his face into the other’s unmoving chest. His frame was wracked heavily with the force of his sobs as he screamed his anger, grief and pain to the world, the sound guttural and not-at-all human.

In the commotion, Tobi noticed the small, bright red box that had fallen out from the fake’s grasp, and as he studied it, an impassive smile reached his face when he realised what the box contained.

 _Ah, so you were about to propose, were you not?_ The voice in his heart laughed wickedly. _Did you learn nothing from Rin?_

"Happiness is just an illusion caused by the temporary absence of reality, despair is eternal, all is meaningless in this absurd world," Tobi, once used to be known as Uchiha Obito quoted, his Mangekyo savouring the sight of his alternate self still clinging to his dead partner, unwilling to let go even in the embrace of death. He smiled.

_Let everything comes to an end, and let the Moon take us away to a land where happiness is eternal._

_For all is an illusion compared to the place of dreams._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave comments on how much you love the ending. ;D
> 
>  
> 
> That was sarcasm, by the way. My sadistic side says, "Hi!".


End file.
